


Remembering

by Halfblood_Fiend



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Discovery
Genre: F/M, Implied Not-So-Great Relationship, Implied Relationships, Oopsie Doopsie Feelings, Season 1 Spoilers, kinda low-key relationship of convenience turned into obsessive love, purely self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-11 00:04:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18671122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Halfblood_Fiend/pseuds/Halfblood_Fiend
Summary: Mirror Gabriel Lorca intervenes on Fate's behalf and reflects upon his feelings for Michael Burnham when they meet again for the first time.





	Remembering

**Author's Note:**

> I'm fascinated with the idea of this ship and all the ways it could have been bad and good. In my head, what began for Mirror Lorca as an easy way to get close to the Emperor by seducing Mirror Michael ended up being kinda disastrous when he started growing some feelings for her. And I wanna think Mirror Michael knew exactly what Lorca was up to and let it happen anyway for funsies until she caught feelings too.  
> So then what happens when you are attached to a person that doesn't really exist anymore, but they appear to be right in front of you? A lot of Emotions, I think. So enjoy a mini character study. :)

 

Finally.

Gabriel Lorca's months of searching were finally-- _finally_ \--over. This opportunity that had presented itself seemed just too good to pass up.

His ship, the Discovery, had been waiting here in the middle of Federation space for some time. They were monitoring the electric storm raging below them, something mildly important for Lieutenant Stamets' work on the spore drive, when Opportunity came knocking. Here they were, here  _he_  was, conveniently in the path between  _her_ and a dilithium mining facility that exclusively employed convicts, when he was informed that the storm below them just so happened to be infested with a highly volatile form of electrical pest. Species GS54, Commander Saru had said, as he advised they keep their distance. For Lorca, it was as though a bolt of lightning had hit him. Fate was intervening now, the pieces he was waiting for fallen right into his lap. Lorca knew exactly what he had to do next.

"I'll be in my ready room. Saru, you have the bridge."

"Aye, sir."

Sending the subspace signal to the holding facility where Michael Burnham had been sent after her court-martial was an easy thing. Trivial, really. The Federation's "top secret" codes were simple ones to crack, nothing-- _mere child's play_ \--compared to the complexity and intricacy among the Terran Empire. He was sloppier than he should have been in his haste, but he knew no one would trace the message back to him. No one would even think to.

Lorca practically laughed as he typed out his transmission:

_Emergency, priority one. Piezoelectric incident in mining facility, Tellum. Much of mine destroyed. Fifty dead. Dilithium production integral for continuation of Klingon War and must not cease. Send able-bodied replacements immediately._

The message felt so familiar under his fingers that for a moment Lorca nearly believed he'd never left the Empire at all. He would never forget that it was by a stroke of luck, yet another string of fate, that he arrived in this place in the middle of wartime. He might not have been able to convince the people of the Federation that he was this Universe's counterpart had they not been so desperate for soldiers with the stomach for battle. And Lorca had plenty of that. Here, now, his Terran ruthlessness was praised and landed him precisely where he wanted to be: as captain of the U.S.S. Discovery with Paul Stamets and his spore drive under his watchful eye. That he was given license to appropriate anything he needed to further the war effort, was a nice perk. And one he would take full advantage of now. The prize today was the last piece in his grand cosmic puzzle, and his only ticket home.

No matter which way he looked at it, Lorca knew that this Michael Burnham would never be  _his_ Michael. Not really. Oh, she would probably look identical. She'd be just as powerful, just as fiercely beautiful, and maybe she'd even have some of the same traits: that scheming vitality, that fiery passion, her stubbornness, her drive, but she wouldn't be  _his Michael_. In the end, it shouldn't have mattered how similar or not similar they were, he would need to keep his distance all the same. Lorca needed to hide any and all attachment to his past life. Michael Burnham was simply part of the plot; a means to an end, nothing more. To forget this would mean his undoing.

But even the best-laid plans had uncalculated variables. When Lorca turned around, when he saw her standing there, alive and well, before his desk as the room slowly eased into light...

His breath caught in his throat. He felt as though he'd been kicked in the chest, stomach pummeled until he was within an inch of his life. The shock was worse than any Agonizer.

It was all he could do to stop himself from grabbing her shoulders, from kissing her, from shaking her.  _Remember me? I didn't mean to love you! I didn't mean to let you die, but now we have a second chance!_

 _She's not yours_ , he repeated to himself, vehemently-- _violently_. But still... still his heart ached for Michael. Still, he saw her in his mind's eye gasping and unwinding beneath him, or restraining his arms from above him--he was never picky about which. Her's was a fire of unadulterated passion Lorca had no hope--or intention-- of putting out.

Even as he spoke to her, his heart cried for hers. He searched this Michael for any sign, any  _inkling_ , that she knew how closely intertwined their fates had been before. _Recognize me, Michael! I'm here for you now. Remember me!_  His heart begged her in a sickening show of weakness the real Michael Burnham would have sneered at. For a moment, Lorca couldn't help himself.

But there was never any recognition.

The woman before him was not his Michael.

She was ruined. Resigned. Her eyes were lifeless, missing the fire that always made her  _her_. In this universe, she carried the weight of the war on her shoulders and  _didn't_ relish in it. All this self-pity, over one measly mutiny, over a few thousand casualties...

She didn't recognize him. And suddenly, Lorca was disgusted with her.

She was nothing.

Michael back talked his orders (which he expected from her), some chicken-shitted excuse about wanting to serve out her sentence (which he did not expect from her), but Lorca knew better. If there was one trait he would bet his life that was the same, it was her curiosity. Once she realized what was going on aboard this ship--once  _he_ showed her--she would stay. Michael was another tie, another thread attaching him to the life he'd accidentally left.

And with no small amount of luck and a dash of fate, Lorca would return, destroy Emperor Georgeou, and rule the Terran Empire himself.  _Perhaps even with Michael at my side, after all_ , he thought,  _willing or not_.


End file.
